


Long Live The Future

by imthetitanic



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Barricade Day, Canon Era, Death, M/M, i cried like three times writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-04 23:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6680635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imthetitanic/pseuds/imthetitanic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patron-Minette had a plan: save Jehan on the barricade.</p><p>That plan didn't involve Montparnasse getting shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Live The Future

"Long live France! Long live the future!" Jehan shouted. If they were going to kill him, they would make him a martyr doing it. What else could he be? So when he was tackled to the ground by a burly man and didn't get hit by the bullet meant for him, he was understandably disoriented. 

There was the sound of a scuffle happening while Jehan was being carried away down alleyways, further and further from his friends and the barricade. He was beginning to feel the bruising from the beating they had given him. _Traitor_ , they had labeled him. _Insurrectionist_. 

He hadn't told them that when the ruler betrays the people, the ruler forfeits the people's allegiance. He hadn't told them that Les Amis de l'ABC were the bringers of the dawn of a new era. He hadn't told them that soon they would see just how wrong the king was. He hadn't told them that insurrection was the only option. 

In other words, he had let down his friends. Maybe that's why he yelled what he had. He wanted his friends to know that he had never forgotten the central tenants of their organization. Even at the end, Jehan was a loyal member of Les Amis de l'ABC. 

So why was he being dumped unceremoniously on a straw mattress in a dingy basement? 

When his eyes adjusted to the low lighting, he realized that the burly man who had been carrying him was Guelemer. Anger surged through his body and he got to his feet. "Bring me back," he ordered. "I didn't want this. Bring me back."

"Listen, Montparnasse would never forgive us if we let you die. We've already lost Claquesous," Guelemer responded slowly. He reached out to set a comforting hand on Jehan's shoulder, but Jehan jerked away. "I know you're angry. But you'll have to take that up with Montparnasse yourself. I can't let you leave."

"Where is he?" Jehan asked, voice low and dangerous. He'd known. He'd known Montparnasse would do something like this, even though he'd told his lover time and again that if he should die in the battle it was his wish to be allowed to die in the battle. Of course Montparnasse could never simply allow that to happen. Of course he had to interfere. "Where is Montparnasse?"

A raspy voice came from the doorway. "He's here." Babet stepped into the light of the candles. "But he isn't doing so well." 

Jehan ignored the dizziness that had set in. He was probably concussed. Joly would kill him for staying standing for so long. "What do you mean isn't doing so well?" he asked.

Brujon came into the room bearing a lanky burden in his arms like a baby. Even by candlelight Jehan could see the bloodstains on Brujon's clothes. He staggered where he stood, and Guelemer helped him lay back down. 

"Put him next to me." Jehan could feel tears pricking behind his eyes, but he kept his voice stern. 

Brujon looked hesitant for a moment. "He's bleeding from the stomach, Prouvaire, maybe that isn't the best idea."

"I've seen blood before, Brujon, just put him on the mattress." 

Brujon looked to Babet, who nodded almost imperceptibly. He lowered Montparnasse gently onto the mattress. To Jehan's horror, he was conscious, face contorted in pain. Jehan met Montparnasse's green eyes and held them. 

Montparnasse swallowed. "Bird?" His usually honeyed voice was a croak. 

"Yes, 'Parnasse, I'm here, I'm not leaving." 

"They hurt you," he said, anger creeping into his voice. "Those are bruises." He started trying to sit up, but Jehan pinned him to the bed by his shoulders.

It only took light pressure to keep Montparnasse from moving. "Mon chéri, you can't sit up, you're hurt worse than I am."

"Which ones were they that did this?" Montparnasse snarled, tears of pain in his eyes. "Which ones? They'll be dead by morning."

Jehan didn't have to look up to know that Patron-Minette was nodding in agreement, especially when he heard Guelemer cracking his knuckles behind him. "No, Montparnasse." He tried to be stern, but he was never good at stern. "I am perfectly fine, thanks to you and Patron-Minette." His voice began to waver. "Please, you need to rest."

"Mon petit oiseau," Montparnasse said, bringing real tears to Jehan's eyes, "I will not make it through the night."

Babet interjected, "He's right, Prouvaire."

"Best to end it now, I think," Brujon said.

Jehan whipped around at that to glare at Brujon through his tears. "We can save him," he said. 

A hand wrapped itself loosely around Jehan's wrist. Jehan looked at its owner, who was unabashedly letting his tears flow now. "Jean Prouvaire," Montparnasse said gently. "Jehan, little bird, I'm glad you survived. You always were meant to outlive me, I think. Allow me to have my revenge on whoever dared lay hands on you and I shall die in peace."

Jehan kissed Montparnasse on the forehead. "I do not know their names, mon chéri. I am sure my friends will avenge me."

His friends were most likely all dead. Jehan knew that. All he needed now was to allow Montparnasse to die in comfort. 

From the pained smile that crossed Montparnasse's face at his words, Jehan gathered he had comforted him, slight as that comfort was. "Good," Montparnasse said, voice weak. "You need to leave now, bird. You do not want to see me die."

Jehan shook his head. "I won't leave." Montparnasse looked as though he were about to protest, but Jehan said, "You want one of them to kill you, because you are in pain and death is inevitably coming, yes?"

"Yes."

Jehan hardened his resolve and took the silver-handled dagger from Montparnasse's belt, ignoring the blood on his hands. "I'll do it." At Montparnasse's shocked stare, he said, "I want to provide the relief I can provide."

Montparnasse swallowed visibly and nodded. "You know how to cut a throat?"

"Of course." Jehan tried to steel himself for the task, but leaned down and pressed his lips against those of Montparnasse instead. "Are you ready?"

Montparnasse smiled. "Yes, little bird." 

Jehan drew the knife across Montparnasse's throat in one deft movement. He watched the blood flow in helpless fascination, squeezing Montparnasse's limp, twitching hand. He was hardly conscious of Patron-Minette leaving the room, and even less conscious of the sobs wrenching their way out of his bruised body, the salt tears stinging the cuts the beating left on his face. 

He wished Montparnasse had never come to his rescue. He wished he had been allowed to die before the barricade as he had always been meant to. He wished never to have met Montparnasse. He wished to have loved Montparnasse from the beginning of time instead of for two furtive years. He wished they had not needed to be so secretive. He wished the barricade had never happened. He wished to be dead himself. 

He fell asleep on a mattress soaked in his lover's blood. He woke up with the corpse no longer beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> I thrive on feedback!!


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